Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Maybe She Will

image by Zelko Nedic
She comes to me in dreams real as Earth
Divine succubus
Her silken wings become my blindfold
Her ebony tresses my chains
I, her servant of the midnight,
willingly succumb to her spell
From my mind's mad stirrings
emerges a wild hope
a plea I dare not voice
(Maybe she will stay)
Evil enchantress
She hears my thoughts 
 leaves her calling card-
 black dog with eyes of fire
Now I know that it is I
who will be going soon.

submitted for The Mag, Mag 128


Brian Miller said...

yikes...um...at least you will be together now...err...nice doggy....

S.E.Ingraham said...

oooh ... this gave me chills ... you went an entirely different direction than I was expecting or that I've read yet and I loved it ... very cool


Laurie Kolp said...

I love the beginning... such vivid images throughout. Great take on the prompt!

darev2005 said...

Just awesome. That got me staring off into space for awhile...


Fireblossom said...

Well yeah. What did you expect a Succubus to leave? A text message? ;-)

Sue J said...

Great depth.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Darkly delicious!

Anna :o]

sreeja harikrishnan said...

A little scary type emotions crawl here with love......enjoyed....

Helen said...

There is something quite special about your poem this week .......

Bee's Blog said...

Compellingly mysterious.